“Let’s cook something,” suggested Madeline. “I hate cold luncheons.”
“It’s just the weather for a bacon-bat,” said Betty.
“Then let’s have one by all means,” Mr. Dwight seconded her. “I don’t know what it is, but it certainly sounds appetizing.”
“It’s great,” Babe assured him. “You roast the bacon on sticks, and have rolls and pickles and things to go with it, and coffee, of course. We used to have them all winter in Harding when it wasn’t too snowy.”
“All right,” said John, “a bacon-bat it shall be. We’ll get the things in the morning when we start off. Now the next question is, shall we walk or ride?”
“Let’s walk,” said Babe. “We’re all crazy over walking. Unless—would your mother go if we rode, Babbie?”
But Mrs. Hildreth, who appeared just then, having heard from Miss MacNish about the early tea, said she was sure that even if it cleared off in the morning it would be too damp for her idea of a picnic, so it was finally decided to walk.
As soon as tea was over, John declared that he must go. “Got to bone this evening to make up for taking part of to-morrow morning off,” he explained, blushing and looking sheepishly at Mr. Dwight.
“I’m glad to see that you pay in advance for your fun, John,” said Mrs. Hildreth. “It’s the best way.”
“I guess you’re right, Mrs. Hildreth,” said John. “Anyhow I’m experimenting on it just at present. We’ll be here at eleven sharp, Babbie.”